Heat
by Kalira69
Summary: What's Layla supposed to do when she hears a pained scream coming from her roommates' bedroom? Warren/Will, Slash


The second of twenty-five stories I wrote for Round Twelve of the IJ Porn Battle and one of two for this fandom and pairing. The original prompt is below the story.  


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**Heat**

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Layla had tried to be supportive of Will's relationship with Warren, even when they had become uncomfortably loud in their room. Even if it was terrifically uncomfortable, being able to hear the screaming downstairs in her _own_ room.

This, on the other hand, was _not_ good screaming. She ran up the stairs, an instinctive reaction to the sound of someone in pain, and froze before the door - she could see the dangerous glow of flames beneath the door.

She bit her lip, rocking back and forth uncertainly, before finally making a decision and opening the door. She immediately wished that she hadn't when she saw the men entwined on the bed - there was no mistaking the fact that she _had_ been mistaken before; she must have been.

It took her a few moments to regain enough sense - and mobility - to back out of the room - _their_ room - and shut the door again; luckily the men were _far_ too absorbed in themselves to notice her standing there. Layla was left gasping, slumping against the opposite wall, involuntarily replaying the after-image _burned_ - appropriately enough - into her mind.

Warren had been stretched out across the black cotton covering their king-size bed, every inch of his tanned skin glistening in the heat of passion - it must be from that; no amount of heat she had seen him engulfed in had ever caused him to sweat at all.

Will was straddling his long-time lover's hips, one hand braced on Warren's waist, holding him down easily, keeping him from bucking up. Will's muscles - which had gotten more defined, though not much larger, in the years since he'd gotten his powers - flexed distractingly under his skin as he rose and fell.

The reason for the shriek which had so alarmed her appeared to be when Warren's control - flawless in most situations - had shattered and his power had erupted. One of his hands was wrapped around Will's wrist, the other twined in his curly hair, and both were flaming - Will didn't appear to either notice or care.

In fact, there were fluctuating streaks of fire erupting from places on Warren she had never seen flame before - and a few from places she had never seen at all.

What had finally snapped her out of her shock was Warren raising the hand from Will's wrist to stroke him - at least, that was what Layla assumed he was doing, from the movements she could see - and Will's head falling back as he screamed again.

The bed - specially designed to withstand flame and super-strength - groaned in protest as Will began to bring himself down harder. That was when Layla backed out, but she could still . . . _hear_ them.

It was only a few minutes later - though it felt rather longer - when Will's screams - now released almost every time he took a breath - were joined by a deeper sound that Layla would almost have to call a roar.

Her face was probably even redder than her hair, Layla thought, as those intermingled sounds were echoed by a slow creak and then a resounding crash as the bed apparently gave up the fight. She found herself amazingly glad that the sheets used in Will and Warren's room were completely fire-proof - otherwise the whole house probably would have caught by now.

Layla left when she began to hear quiet murmuring noises of - well, 'sweet nothings' was hardly Warren's style . . . either of them, actually. In any case, she really _didn't_ need to hear - or _see_, oh Gaia - anything more than she already _had_.

Layla slowly backed down the hallway and crept down the stairs, praying that neither of them would remember her - rather ill-advised, apparently - invasion of their room, and her inadvertent invasion of their privacy.

She thought that perhaps she would find something else to do - maybe spending a few hours in her greenhouse would make her blush - which seemed like it might become a permanent fixture just at the moment - go away. And maybe they would have finished with 'round two' by then - she had no illusions that there wouldn't be one, even if they _had_ already broken their bed. Again.

~Fin~

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The prompt which inspired this was 'Sky High, Warren/Will, burn marks'.


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